


Talk To Me

by thechaoscryptid



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo Fills [15]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, FWB Kidge, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Hanahaki Disease, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Polyamorous Character, and so is Pidge, platonic shidge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22585501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thechaoscryptid/pseuds/thechaoscryptid
Summary: Pidge jerks forward as a cough rattles out of them, thick and wet and broken at the way Keith’s mouth forms the word. It’s stupid. All of this is stupid, because love is stupid. It complicates the easiest of things and makes the best people into fools, and Pidge hates that not even they are immune to its charms.Shiro’s hand is soothing as it rubs gentle circles on their back, the touch grounding as it helps ease the pain of swallowing the petals down. “I’ll go,” he says softly. “You two have a lot to talk about.”
Relationships: Keith/Pidge | Katie Holt, Pidge | Katie Holt/Shiro
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo Fills [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1391602
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	Talk To Me

**Author's Note:**

> BTHB prompt: Clawing at Own Throat

Pidge stares sightlessly up at the ceiling, watching the red and gold of a desert sunset bleed into shadow as the minutes pass. Each is another stone added to the monument of defeat surrounding their heart, walling off the garden that’s made its home in their lungs. Nights like these come too often these days--Keith’s been off-planet for almost three weeks now and because of this, there’s no one to ease breath into their failing body.

It’s only getting worse as time goes on, and quicker with each passing day. Keith will find out eventually. He always does. He’s not stupid. He’ll see the scarves Pidge has had to dig out of the bottom of their closet to hide the bruises, the scrapes from their nails as they foolishly attempt to claw out the infection during the middle of a panicked choking session.

He’ll probably hear it from Shiro first, they think. Good,  _ kind  _ Shiro whose eyes held nothing but fear as he watched blood-tainted chamomile petals slide from Pidge’s lips as they stood in his office, hidden from the world outside. 

Allura had texted several hours later, saying she'd heard Pidge was ill and asking if a bowl of soup would help.

It wouldn’t, but the sentiment was appreciated.

Keith...Keith is going to find out when he’s halfway across the galaxy and not in a place to come home for someone who’s not really his. Not yet.

A rasping moan slips from Pidge’s chest at a knock on their door. “Who is it?” they ask softly.

“Shiro’s downstairs for you, honey,” Sam says. “Should I send him up?”

“Yeah.” The world narrows to a single point as their chest constricts, and the effort it takes to sit up and not begin coughing is almost more than they can handle. A scent that  _ should  _ be calming yet is anything but fills the room as a few petals flutter onto the back of their tongue, slimy with fluids they don’t want to think about as they spit into the trash.

“Pidge?” Shiro says. There’s a small thump as he presumably leans up against the door, and Pidge bids him come inside. His brow is pinched, face upset as he falls to rest on his knees by their bedside. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I could conquer the world.”

Shiro raises an eyebrow.

“About as good as I can feel with flowers in my lungs and the man who kickstarted the infection all the way on New Altea,” they sigh, reaching to brush cool fingers against his cheek. “Even better because he doesn’t know about it.” Their eyes search Shiro’s face, looking for any indication that it’s not true. Finding none, they slump back down to the bed. “I fucked up, Shiro, bad.”

“You know you could’ve come to me,” Shiro says. His eyes slip shut as he leans into the touch, a quiet noise of frustration escaping him when a cough rumbles through Pidge’s chest. “Have you talked to someone about treatment yet?”   


“Yeah, I’m dying now because I decided to go to the doctor and get cured,” they say, but the sarcasm doesn’t quite land and Shiro’s eyes snap open, irritated. “Sorry. I just...he’s gone and I wanted to...I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid when your life’s on the line, Pidge,” Shiro murmurs, leaning closer.

“I caught...feelings. I didn’t want to.” They bring their knees to their chest and arms over their face as they fight off another cough at the reminder, the knowledge that they’re here and Keith probably hasn’t thought about them since he landed on New Altea. He’s busy, after all--they both are, and that’s why their arrangement was perfect.

_ Was. _

Their staring match is interrupted by a  _ ping  _ from the datapad on the bedside table, then the telltale light of someone calling. Much to Pidge’s consternation, Shiro picks it up and turns it to their face for approval.

“You need to tell him,” he says. “I’m not letting you wither away because you don’t think he might want the same thing.”

“You’re not my boss anymore.”

“I’m asking as a friend, Pidge, someone who loves you. Please.” Shiro’s face softens in the long seconds between picking up the pad and when Pidge slowly reaches to accept the call, making sure they’re bundled well enough to hide the marks on their throat. 

“Hello, Keith.”

_ “Hey,”  _ he says, and Pidge’s brow knits as he rubs uncomfortably at his neck.  _ “Uh, can we talk? Allura said she was worried about you.” _

“I’ll leave,” Shiro mouths, jerking his thumb toward the door.  _ “Tell him.” _

“Stay,” Pidge blurts.

On the screen, Keith cocks his head.  _ “I’m not going anywhere.” _

“Me, Keith,” Shiro says. He’s half crouched on the floor when Pidge turns the pad around and he waves, an embarrassed smile on his face. “How’s New Altea?”

_ “Fine? Why are you here? Are things okay?” _

“Pidge has--”

“I’m sick,” they blurt. “He was checking on me.”

_ “I see,”  _ Keith says. He settles back down onto the couch he’s perched on and relaxes slightly as Shiro sits next to Pidge, supporting them against his shoulder.  _ “Uh...you have a cold?” _

Pidge swallows hard against the taste of what used to be their favorite tea and shrugs, noncommittal. “I’ve had a cough.”

“Pidge,” Shiro says.

_ “Oh,”  _ Keith says, confused.  _ “Allura said you looked really sick. I was worried.” _

“Why?” Pidge whispers. It matters--they didn’t intend on walking the line between fuck buddies and something more tonight, but they suppose tonight is as good a night as any. Shiro’s warmth surrounds them even through the blanket, his scent and weight reassuring as unease flickers across Keith’s face. 

_ “Because I care?”  _ he says. He’s holding back, that much is obvious from the way he bites his lip as his shoulders bunch nearly to his ears.  _ “I--you--uh, Shiro?” _

“Hmm?”

_ “You know I love seeing--” _

Pidge jerks forward as a cough rattles out of them, thick and wet and  _ broken  _ at the way Keith’s mouth forms the word. It’s stupid.  _ All  _ of this is stupid, because  _ love  _ is stupid. It complicates the easiest of things and makes the best people into fools, and they hate that not even they are immune to its charms. 

Shiro’s hand is soothing as it rubs gentle circles on their back, the touch grounding as it helps ease the pain of swallowing the petals down. “I’ll go,” he says softly. “You two have a lot to talk about.”

_ “Thanks.” _

As Shiro walks away, Pidge sinks to the bed once more. There’s a familiar pounding in their head, the sort that comes with too much thinking and too little oxygen. Tears spring to their eyes, unbidden, and sniffling them back does nothing to help the ache. 

_ “You really don’t look good,”  _ Keith says, peering intently through the screen.  _ “It’s not a cold.” _

“No,” Pidge says, but leaves it at that as they both stare at each other. 

_ “Flu?” _

“No.”

_ “You’re sweating. You should take the blankets off.” _

Pidge shakes their head, unwilling to let that last bastion of protection go. Lowering that shield means lowering every other defense and being vulnerable, and they’re not sure they’re willing to be that for a person who may or may not truly understand all that it means. 

Keith is great, but he’s no emotional genius.

_ “Can you stop being stubborn? Just for tonight?”  _ Keith asks.  _ “What did Shiro mean we have things to talk about? I mean,  _ I  _ do, but what…” _

“So talk,” Pidge rasps. Then, “Please, Keith. Tell me what you want.”

_ “I want to come home,”  _ Keith says.  _ “I miss Earth.” _

“It’ll be here when you get back.”

_ “I miss you, too,”  _ he says after a beat.  _ “A lot. Not just this mission, either, I--”  _ He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.  _ “I miss how it feels when we’re together.” _

The admission makes Pidge ache in a way that’s indescribable, in a way that feels like healing and breaking all at once. 

_ “Allura said you were sick, and I got worried because what if it was something bad and I never said that?”  _ Keith continues.  _ “I’ve been trying to figure out how to for a while now, but that’s really it. I miss you. I  _ want  _ you, not just what we’ve been.” _

Pidge gasps at the flare of pain in their chest, white hot as it sears up into their throat. The pad shakes for a split second before hitting the floor, Keith’s face distorted by the force as Pidge’s hands clutch at their throat. It’s  _ impossible  _ to breathe, impossible to do anything besides rip at the skin in an attempt to tear the petals out even if it kills them. Keith’s voice is worried as it fills the room, and is then drowned out by footsteps pounding up the stairs. 

“Pidge?  _ Pidge?”  _ Shiro says, voice frantic as he rips the door open and gathers them into his arms. “Breathe. Breathe, Pidge, come on.” He tips their chin up, disregarding the red-stained flowers dripping down their chin and onto Keith’s terrified face on the pad. “Deep breath in.”

They try, they really do, but only manage half an inhale before the petals become too much and they begin to choke again. The white light threatens to envelop them and they think that perhaps this is finally their time, surrounded by Shiro’s arms and light years away from the other man they want.

It’s not how they imagined it.

_ “Pidge,”  _ they hear distantly, and it’s the break in Keith’s voice that pulls them back from the edge.  _ “Pidge, please,  _ breathe.”

Chamomile tumbles through their fingers as they cough, spitting them out in a cascade of white and wet onto the floor. The irony isn’t lost on them--for a flower that spells patience, it gives no quarter when spilling from one’s lungs. Their chest heaves and they worry, because they’ve never hacked up this quantity before. 

It’s new, and it’s terrifying.

And then, just like that, the pain begins to fade. The insistent pressure in their chest eases until it’s more akin to a rough cold, the petals tumbling to the floor dead and dying instead of fresh and beautiful. When they finally open their eyes, Keith’s face is twisted as he looks on. It’s a little reassuring, but also upsetting.

This wasn’t supposed to be how their confession went.

“Hey, come on,” Shiro says softly. His large hands blanket theirs as he pulls them down, thumbs brushing carefully against the new marks on their neck as he reassures Keith that he’ll get to a hospital as soon as possible. 

_ “Why didn’t you tell me?”  _ Keith whispers from the pad.  _ “I would’ve come home. Helped you.” _

“Because I was waiting to talk to you in person,” Pidge says. “I wanted to know if you could ever feel that way about...a friend. Me. But I didn’t want to make a decision without all the evidence, you know? Didn’t want to rush it.”

_ “You were dying,”  _ Keith says.  _ “That’s more important than whatever I might feel for you. We’ve all lost too much for you to die because of some bullshit, Pidge, you know that.” _

“I’ve seen you do worse for love,” Shiro says solemnly. “Keith--”

_ “I’m coming home,”  _ Keith interrupts.  _ “And we’re figuring this out because you’re  _ not  _ dying. You’re not. You can’t.” _

Pidge shivers as the slight chill of the room settles into their bones, the carpet of flowers on their lap beginning to cool as they shrink into Shiro’s arms. They want to protest, tell Keith that it’s fine now that they know, but the words would just fall flat.  They  _ want  _ Keith,  _ need  _ him, and want him home so he can help navigate through this new, burgeoning sense of togetherness between them. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments always read and _very_ much appreciated, and I always do my best to get back to them ❤️
> 
> You can also find me lurking and yelling about fictional characters on:  
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